I glance at Xan, seeing the understanding saturate him. When he scared me the other day. The day I got drunk and kissed him. This is the real story.
“I went to the police again. They took my statement and told me to come back if it happened again. There was nothing they could do. But now Millie was at risk. She was there, with me. Then the hospital called and told me you had been hit, broke your leg. Coming back here was the last thing I wanted but I traded in my motorhome for a different one. I drove here and disconnected from my business. My plan was the lay low here until you were better. Take time off even though my business is crumbling with me not producing or being online at all.
“I wanted to disappear for a bit and hoped it would blow over. He would forget about me.”
“He obviously didn’t. What’s his name?” Xan said, leaning over the table.
“Brigitte,” Dad says, completing their tag team of disappoint. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I honestly didn’t think it would get this far. It was prank phone calls, Dad. I get harassed all the time on the internet. Until the ditch thing, I didn’t think it was threat. Just a problem.”
They both look at me like I’m insane.
“Briggs, you’ve been jumpy since you got back,” Xan starts, and I jump up and slam my palms on the table.
“Of course, I’m jumpy. I brought my daughter back to this town thinking you didn’t want her. I had to take care of a father that I hadn’t spoken to in years. My business is falling apart. I’m being trolled on the internet by people who want to see me fail. Now I have someone after me. I’m fucking terrified. All I want to do is keep Millie safe. From everything.”
My voice trails off and I hang my head, leaning on the table like I have no more strength to hold myself up.
“Let us help you keep her safe,” Xan says putting a hand on mine.
Honestly it should be a no brainer. Of course, I should say yes. I should open my arms and accept their assistance, but I don’t trust them. Not fully.
As a mother, I believe that no one can protect Millie like I can. No one knows her like I do.
It all falls on me.
Everything is on me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
XAN
“So, you’re living here now?” Jet asks as I hold up the drywall on the new studio shed in Briggs yard.
“I’m staying in Briggs motorhome for a while until we get this figured out,” I say, Jet knows what this is. I filled him in on everything. So naturally all my siblings now know and in some small way they’ve all contributed to helping Millie’s safety. Briggs hates it. She walked around with a scowl on her face for the last two weeks.
“And you’re done fucking,” Jet states it rather than phrases it like a question. A short laugh bursts from my chest.
“Dammit, Jet. Keep your voice down. Yes. We talked about it. No more.” Honestly, I’m as unhappy about that as everything else. Being with Briggs comes as naturally to me as breathing. Like the last ten years was a bad dream. I have to force the thoughts of her out of my head before I get hard thinking about it.
I was the one who brought it up. She agreed without hesitation, we don’t need to further complicate this with our own feelings.
“Alright, Bro. Just be careful,” he says but I know he’s not talking about the stalker. “You have a weak spot when it comes to her. Keep your shit together.”
Millie pops her head in the doorway, a smile I’ll never tire of between wind burnt cheeks.
“Hey,” she says out of breath. “Can you take me into town. You promised I could practice with Sarah today.”
“Absolutely. Give me a couple minutes to talk to your mom okay?” I let go of the final roof piece as Jet braces it and dust my hands on my work pants. “Where is she?”
Millie rolls her eyes and points to the upstairs window. “She’s moping. Been sitting on her bed staring into a box all day.”
I throw my arm over Millie’s shoulders and tuck her into my side. “Your Mom has a lot on her mind right now. We’re all trying to help out.”
“You’re all being weird,” she shoots back, and I laugh. It’s not a lie. No one has told Millie anything about the danger she’s in. The general idea is stay as normal for her as possible. But it’s not very possible when she’s an emotion sponge.
“You are too smart for your own good,” I say, pulling her hat down to cover her eyes and she giggles, wrestling out from under my grip. “I’ll be a couple minutes. Get your stuff packed and in the truck.”
I dust off as best I can before going inside. I’m used to the shade from Louis. He didn’t approve when we were teenagers and he definitely doesn’t approve now. He did awkwardly tell me he was glad I was there, or Briggs could have died. He also was quick to remind me if I wasn’t there she would have slept in her own goddamn bed. His words.
I can see Briggs as I crest the staircase and Millie was right. She’s somber, staring into a small cardboard box and holding a small piece of paper in her fingertips.
“What’s that about?” I nod to the paper and she studies me, no doubt gauging how much to tell me.
“Love notes,” she says and that’s not what I was expecting. I never wrote her love notes. “Written by my mother.”
I sink down next to her and glance at the note.
I hate them for doing this. I’ll hate them forever.
“Doesn’t sound very loving to me,” I try to joke, and she smiles out of pity for my attempt. She grabs another note and I read it. The handwriting is different, and I lean in closer.
“Can I see that?”
She hands it to me, and I study the letters closely. This is familiar.
“This is my dad’s handwriting, B.”
Her eyes widen but the words don’t seem to be sinking in. I shake the note at her.
“This is my father’s writing. I’m certain of it.”
Dad used to drink and write long nonsensical pages of conspiracy theories and journal entries before he would begin ranting at us—spewing his sermons through his booze filter.
The reality of it sinks in slowly until we’re both slack jawed and staring at each other.
“My mom and your dad? No.” Briggs shakes her head in disbelief.
“How?” I ask horrified.
“Oh, God,” Briggs shakes her head harder. It can’t be.
Brigg’s eyebrows rise higher on her forehead and she gasps.
“That’s why they hated us together,” she tosses the box off her lap and shifts to face me. “Your dad had an affair with my mom when they were young. When did your parents start dating?”
“Mom was fifteen, dad was seventeen. Their parents forced them together. Mom was obsessed with Dad. I don’t think Dad cared about her as much. He certainly has no trouble leaving her behind.” I don’t mean to sound bitter and I want to continue but Millie pops into the doorway.
“Can we go,” she whines. “Sarah will be waiting.”
“Yup, I’m coming right now.”
She spins on her toe and then slaps the doorway to stop.
“Oh, and some weird black car pulled into the driveway and took a picture of the house. When they saw me they backed out. Maybe they want to buy it.” She shrugs and Briggs freezes beside me.
When Millie is out of sight, I press her on it. “What’s wrong?”
“The black car. A black sedan is the car that drove me off the road, Xan.”
“What did it look like?” I ask, my own memories stirred.
“Four doors, silver rims, tinted windows.”
The car I parked beside when I went to see my dad forms in my mind. I point to Briggs.
“I’m going to take Millie to practice with Sarah. We’ll talk when I get back.”
I clomp down the stairs my heart pounding and grab my phone.
It rings twice before Del picks up.
“Meet me at the ball diamond, Del.” I say and Louis frowns at me as I let the door slam. I speed walk to catch up
with Millie already at the truck.
“What’s going on Xan?” Del asks but I can hear the jingle of her keys like she’s already on her way.
“I need you to stay with Millie.”
“Xan? What are you doing?”
“I’m going to find Dad.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
XAN
Millie picks at her glove in the passenger seat and I try to contain my buzzing energy with little success.
“Is anyone ever going to tell me what’s going on?” She asks.
Her face is so earnest, and her shoulders slumped, I feel bad for this wicked smart little girl who just wants to know something. She reminds me of Tabby when she was little, wide eyed and taking it all in, but she only got a tiny bit of reality, we made sure to protect her from seeing and hearing things that would hurt her, we couldn’t ever protect her from feeling them. And that sparkly eyed girl became suspicious, anxious, always second guessing.
I don’t want that for Millie either.
So, I tell her as much of the truth as I can in that moment. “Honestly, probably not.”
Her shoulders slump even deeper.
“But here’s what I can tell you. It has absolutely nothing to do with anything you’ve done or said. Everything we’re doing right now is because we want what’s best for you. You’re a kid, Millie. We want you to have fun, make friends, win some baseball games,” I say with a wink and she cracks a small smile. “We trust you and will tell you anything you need to know if we need your help. Can you trust us?”
She thinks about it for a little bit, picking at the ends of her braid and then nods as we turn off the highway to the school.
“Yes,” she says. “I can trust you.”
“So, I have to go see someone today,” I park along the street outside the school field. Del is already there with her glove. “Del is going to work with you two, okay?”
A small frown knits her brows low into a worried frown. “Are you okay though?”
I lean across the truck and cup her face in my hand. “I’m okay. No more worrying. Only fun from now on. That’s an order young lady.” I try out my Dad voice, but she bursts out laughing and I smack my jaw like I ate something gross.
“Yeah, that didn’t really work,” I joke. “I’ll keep working on it.”
I tap her cheek with my thumb and her laugh turns into giggles. “Good idea.”
She hops out and waves to Del, but the second she sees Sarah hop out of her mom’s minivan she reverts back into a ten-year-old kid. They screech out their hellos and sprint off to the field.
Del stops by the truck and leans in my window. “What’s up, big brother?”
She accuses me with her eyes and drop my voice to a hush. “I think Dad might be the one threatening Briggs.”
Her chin snaps up in shock. “What? That’s absurd.”
I contemplate whether to tell her about Dad and Amalie’s love affair.
“It is. But I have to find him.”
“I know where he is,” Del sighs.
“How?”
“He came back again, after you chased him off.”
“Why didn’t anyone call me?”
“Because, Xan. You don’t have to be the one to save us all the time. Jesus you’re a control freak. We dealt with it. But I put him up at the hotel. Paid for a week, told him to gather his shit and get out of town for good.”
“You know he’s probably already asked for a cash refund and bolted, right?”
Del shrugs. “Good luck. Don’t be stupid, alright?”
I know what she means by stupid. She means don’t beat the shit out of him in public and get arrested again. That’s how I lost my ball scholarship. I have a weakness when it comes to my father. He can always get to me, always push me out of that zone of control I have in all other parts of my life.
I throw the truck in drive and head to the bar.
#
“Kasey, just tell me his room number,” I sigh, leaning on the desk of the hotel reception. The hotel and bar are in the same building. The only place to stay and the only place to drink. Putting them together was efficient in a town like this.
“Take your drama outside, Ryker.” Kasey glares at me with small squinting eyes. Her stringy blonde hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and she looks ten years older than her 40.
“Call him down then. Tell him someone dropped something off for him.”
“I can’t lie to a guest.”
I laugh and dig out my wallet, slapping a fifty on the counter. “I owe Jason Ryker money, can you please call him and let him know I left it with reception?”
She glares at me and swipes the bill off the counter, picking up the phone and jabbing the buttons.
I move to the seating area, a cracked old leather couch and chipped end table. I take in this space I’ve walked through countless times. It’s old. Cracked and crumbling in the corners, cobwebs hanging from the ceilings which is missing tiles in random places.
“Someone left me something?” Jason’s voice brings me back to the moment and I stand.
The receptionist hands him the money and stalks off. He stares at it dumbly before noticing me. His eyes are unfocused and his smile lopsided. He’s drunk.
“Hey,” he draws the word out with a lazy tongue. “So good to see you son.”
“Don’t.” I say. “I need to ask you a question and you need to be really honest with me.”
He stumbles back a bit and tilts his head in obvious confusion. “Okay, come on up to my room. I’ll tell ya anything you want to know.”
He giggles and tucks the money in his pocket which I knew he would. I jam my hands in my pockets and follow him up the dim hallway and into the room that was frozen in 1983.
“Beer?” Jason swipes a beer off the desk and hands it to me. I shake my head. He flops down onto the bed and I roll out the desk chair.
“How long were you in love with Amalie Marchand?”
He choked on his beer, his eyes widening and bubbles of beer spurting out with each cough.
I wait patiently until he settles but he says nothing. Long silence draws patterns between us, he sits droopy eyed and scared. I’m being hit with memory loops of all the ways in which he used to insult Briggs and throw obstacle after obstacle in our way. How he used to lie to her when she called. Make snarky comments in church. Force me to stay home to deal with his shit when he knew I was supposed to meet her. Even that last night. The night Amalie died; my dad was the one who got us in a room together.
“How long, Jason?” I push again.
“That’s a hard question to answer.” He slurs, chugging his beer and in this moment, I lose hold of my anger toward him. I see him exactly as he is. A broken man lost and desperately running from his true feelings.
“You still love her,” I say, knowing the truth of it as it passes my lips. Jason stares at me with a simmering sadness in his eyes before he locks it away and turns to what he knows best.
“What the fuck you barging in here for bringing up stuff that has nothing to do with you, boy?” He stands and I stand, because with Jason I need to always be ready. Ready for the swing, ready for the words, ready for him to twist the knife in my softest spots.
“Because Briggs found a box full of love notes in your handwriting. She’s also being stalked by some psycho who has tried to kill her twice. Because you happened to show up in town so conveniently at the same time.”
“You think I’m trying to kill Briggs?” His anger halts and his voice lowers to a hum that sounds...hurt?
It throws me off my guard long enough for the fire to surge and he grips me around the neck, slamming me back into the wall.
“How dare you, you bastard,” he shouts at me with stale breath and a weak grip on my neck. “Get out. Get the fuck out.”
He squeezes my neck and I easily grab his wrist, twist his arm behind his back and shove him onto the small bed. He curses at me tangled in the unmade sheets, crushes his beer can in his h
and and throws it at me. I step out of the way and back to the door. A sense of calm sits in my chest and I take in everything about this scene like I would a fire. Everything slows down, my senses open to everything from the direction of the breeze, to clothes on my back, to the stale smell of the room and the energy lights up the space between me and my father.
I see him for exactly what he is.
A man who allowed himself to be consumed by his demons.
The scariest part of it all, is in him I see my future.
I leave the hotel in a trance sitting in my truck with the engine off and my fists gripped tight around the wheel. If I love Briggs. If I want to protect Millie. If I want to keep my siblings together. I know exactly what I have to do.
I pull out my phone and tap out a number.
“Hello,” Shunta’s clipped accent sounds.
“I’m ready to talk,” I say, pushing the words out might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
BRIGGS
I haven’t sat still for over a week. The knowledge that my mother and Xan’s dad were in a relationship when they were young has thrown everything I thought I knew.
It’s even hard to look at Jet without wanting to spill everything that overflows in my chest.
Instead I keep myself busy with finishing touches on the new studio shed. The space is painted, scrubbed, and shined to Jet level perfection so I tinker with things like lamps and storage.
The door opens and Xan steps in, his shoulders hunched and hands in his pockets. It’s been nothing but awkward since we slept together, but I’m not sure if it’s that or the fact that someone started my motorhome on fire, or maybe that we figured out that the reason our parents fought so hard to keep us apart was because they had an affair with each other.
“Hey,” I say, sliding little drawers into a desk.
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